I have received phone calls and e-mails wondering whether I am okay.
I am, I promise.
I have forgotten how flustering the first 2 months postpartum can be. I flounder and thrive. Thrive and flounder. A constant shift between these two states leaves me feeling weary. Breathless. I usually write when I reach a low-point because I feel down. I seek solace in written words because I lack the mindset to fully express my feelings. Sleeplessness and thinking coherent sentences are not comfortable companions.
I have had the sentiment expressed that I am too hard on myself. Perhaps this is true. Let me share my side of the tale to enlighten your understandings.
My husband is in school full-time. His classes consist of challenging pre-med courses. He is often up later than I and leaves before I manage to stumble out of bed. Despite his busy schedule, he comes home and cleans up the house. He helps with dinner. He takes the kids and listens to me complain. He loves me and our babies. He is an amazing man and husband.
I want to take care of him. I want to have dinner ready before he comes home. Have the living room and kitchen picked up so he can somewhat relax. I want to look composed and not frazzled. I want so many things that I know are impossible. At least right now. Mr. B understands. His expectations are not mine. He knows my struggles during the day. He remarks on how much I do, without a hint of sarcasm or complaint. He thanks me everyday.
Can you see why I want to be that “perfect wife?” Maybe not the perfect wife. At least a wife who manages to clean and cook with efficiency.
You are right. I do expect too much of myself. So does he. It is a fault that we share. Through sharing we grow. By growing we come closer together. These times are tough and rewarding. We are learning each other’s strengths and weaknesses. We love and care for each other. When one is down, the other lifts up. Our expectations are high, too high, but life demands that we keep them this way. Maybe we could lower some, but not all.
I knew and expected this to happen when Mr. B declared his desire to become a doctor. I knew it would be rough. I knew I would struggle at times. I knew I may get lonely. I knew and said yes. I would gladly sacrifice these years for him because he gladly sacrifices them for me, as well.
Though I may feel lonely and down, I have found support in areas otherwise unexpected. Thank you, all of you, for sharing with me your thoughts. For encouraging me. For helping me through the last months of a tough pregnancy and the first months of a newborn baby. Melancholy posts are still in the making, but I am okay. I promise. You ensure that I smile, with your words of wisdom and daily thoughts. All I ask is that each of you continue writing. Your writing inspires me to continue down this desolate path.